The Curse of Mortality
by Ireland Ranger
Summary: Young Legolas and Elrohir disappeared from the elven realms without a trace. Twenty years later a human trader called Gurdan wins a elf in a gamble. When Kiyle, Gurdan's brother, befriends Legolas he find that life isn't all sugar for a slave. Meanwhile Elladan never ceased looking for the lost elves and now a warrior, sets out once again. For all involved life never has been kind.
1. Chapter 1

**The Curse of Mortality  
****A Lord of the Rings Fanfiction**

**Chapter One**

"I've not seen such a flower since my departure from Gondor on trading business." A burly man stated looking down at the prize he had recently won in a gamble. "And even those that were there were hard to see and surely not a jeweled as this."

"Indeed." Agreed the lean young man by his side with a tentative smile, eyes bright. "See how it's orbs glisten like fresh dew? I'm jealous of them."

The first trader laughed, throwing back his as the roaring fits left his throat in a conflict of rattling vocal cords. Droplets of mirth sprung to his eyes lightly as he looked at his frail brother with a fond smile, resting a big hand on his jutting shoulder.

"I'm sure you are, Kiyle." He grinned, poking at the teenager's chest with a large finger and raising to snatch a meal for the cook. "But truly, if you have need of this trophy at any time, I'll gladly lend it to you." He winked. "You only need ask."

Kiyle rolled his emerald orbs up, looking away from his muscled brother as he walked away and instead to the subject of their conversation. Tied beside his brother's tent, kneeling bound and silent was a woodland elf, young even by elven standards. Long golden-blond tresses of hair hung about the bruised and battered face. Two cool blue eyes that shown brightly in the light of the campfire were downcast, seemingly taking interest in the dirt on where he knelt.

He was one of the strangest and yet most pleasing being that the young man had ever beheld. Even in the cold collar, blood-soiled and tattered remains of the elven garments he wore, the regal aura of one of the first born glowed about him. His sharp features were alien to human kind and caught the eye of many.

It was by chance only that Gurdan's luck at gambling had made his opponent desperate enough to sell out his elf. When the trader had lost, he looked ready to weep at the loss of such a prize and had begged Gurdan for another round. Unfortunately for the trader, he had lost again, forfeiting his right and forcing him to reluctantly hand over the winnings. The man had left the traders' camp unhappily and mumbling, casting irrigated looks after him.

When Kiyle had first laid his gaze upon the elf, he instantly noticed that lack of emotion in the youthful face. It had bothered him and he wondered if it was normal for slaves to look so dull in the eyes. Neither he, nor his brother had ever bought one before, respecting their dead Mother's wishes. But this elf had been won, not bought and it seemed fair to Gurdan that he keep it.

"Kiyle!"

The young man's head turned towards the speaker seated across the fire. A man with large arms and a long brown beard was staring hard at him, an eyebrow raised. Kiyle had known him a long time, he was an old friend of his Father's in the trading business.

"Yes, Jud?"

"I've only said your name four times, boy." The grizzled man snorted at the innocent tone in the voice. "Interested in your brother's things are we?"

Kiyle smiled, blushing lightly at the words.

"I apologize. My mind was elsewhere."

"Sure." Jud smirked, brushing imaginary dust from his leather jerkin. "There's no shame in looking after the strange artifacts that nature provides. Even grown men, withered and grumpy, have looked on in awe at the beauty of elves with childlike mouths gaping."

Kiyle laughed, the red in his cheeks dimming a bit. He had always liked Jud and thought of him as an uncle of sorts. He'd always been there to get him out of trouble after his and Grudan's father died. He'd taken his place in a way, being supportive and giving the brothers advice when needed. Especially Kiyle, since he was younger and needed more attentions then Grud.

"I'm sure." The brown-haired lad answered, looking back to the still elf. "Do you know where he comes from, Jud? Maybe Rivendell?"

The elder man shook his head, pulling a pipe from the pack by his side and stuffing it with dried smoking leaves. He leaned back against the log he'd situated himself by after setting up the camp and hummed to himself.

"Not Rivendell. They're known for their dark hair and eyes. This one's too bright for being originated from there."

Kiyle nodded in agreement.

"Maybe Lothlorien or the Greenwood, then?" He asked. "They're lighter, right?"

"So they say." Jud grunted with closed eyes, puffing out smoke from his pipe and heaving a content sigh. "Why don't you just ask him?"

"What!?" The young man gasped, eyes shooting to his elder. "I can't do that!"

"And why not?"

Kiyle threw his arms up in exasperation.

"Because he's an elf Jud an _elf_!"

Jud lifted an eyelid to look at the teenager with chocolate eyes.

"And you're a human. What's the problem?"

Kiyle's jaw dropped.

"I-I can't just…he's dangerous!"

"Ki." Jud sighed, sitting up and looking seriously into the boy's wide eyes. He nudged his pipe towards the slave. "Look at him. He's bound, bruised and probably starving right now, leaving him with little to no strength. I highly doubt he could hurt you much less walk on his own without trembling. He's been through hell and is certainly expecting more some time to come. If anything, he's more afraid of you then you are of him."

Green eyes looked back to the unmoving elf with shock. He thought he was going to be hurt?

"B-but I would never harm him, Jud."

The large man sighed again, shaking his head at the misunderstanding in the boy's voice.

"No, you wouldn't." He agreed, reaching for another log to put on the fire. "But he doesn't know that. Just because elves are pretty doesn't mean that people won't abuse them if given the chance to vent. Think Ki, this one's a slave, powerless against the rage of his captors. Who do you think gave him those injuries? He's got no reason to trust you after what others of our kind have done to him."

Frowning at the explanation, Kiyle turned his gaze back to the blond-haired elf with a new light in his eyes. Even when the sight of the blood and dirt was clear he wondered who would ever wish to blacken and break such a glorious creature. He wondered how the first born came into captivity anyway, seeing as people hardly saw elves as it was. Everyone knew that they were secluded from the other races, preferring to keep to themselves rather than mingle about Middle Earth.

The thought only made him more curious towards his brother's new possession.

"Ask him Kiyle." Jud continued, leaning back once again and test his pipe. "We both know that Grudan won't let him go. He'll need a friend or at least someone who he can talk to without fear."

"But…I've never spoken to an elf before."

The man rolled his eyes with a grin.

"Just be polite." He said easily. "I'm sure it's more than he's gotten in a while."

With that he let out a groan, shifting his position until he found himself comfortable. Once satisfied, he closed his eyes and puffed on his pipe, mind trying to grasp sleep.

Kiyle watched him for some time before turning his gaze into the flames of the fire. The night air was cool and he found himself tugging his cloak around him tightly against the offending breeze. He cast his green eyes up, peering through the leaves above and to the stars glittering brightly.

The sudden sound of chains rattling forced his gaze back to the elf. He watched in shock as the bound being shuffled slightly, also trying to get a glimpse of the stars. Once he did he knelt still, hands clasped in their bindings as if praying and face turned up. Crystal blue orbs observed the twilight heavens with something akin to hope in them, strained, but holding on.

It touched Kiyle, seeing something so pleading when all seemed to be lost. It made him wonder how the young elf had survived captivity, or even how long he had been a slave. It must have contained much strength to push itself on alone through hardship and loneliness, that is, if he had indeed been alone. That was another question.

"Still staring?"

Kiyle looked up as Grudan approached, steaming food and drink in hand. He bobbed his head, remaining silent as his brother sat down beside him.

"I think I'll get him some new cloths, hm? Those ones look rather ragged, especially one a creature such as him." The elder sibling bit into a chunk of mutton, chewing thoughtfully. "What do you think, Ki? Any color reference?"

The young man shrugged.

"I don't know."

Grudan swallowed, laughing lightly.

"Come on! You've been staring at him all night and yet you don't know what color would suit him?" He nudged the frail boy with an elbow in the ribs and forcing an 'oof' from him. "Think real hard."

Kiyle wrinkled his nose, rubbing his sore side.

"Colors weren't on my mind, Grud." He mumbled with distaste. "Choose whatever."

He received a blank stare for his words, piercing into him like two chocolate-shaded daggers. It lasted quite a few moments before Grudan once again collected himself and eating more from his neglected food.

"Blue then." He announced, consuming another chunk of mutton. "Suites his twin sapphires."

Kiyle glanced at the immortal again, inwardly wincing at the sight of the being curled up against the chill and hiding his face behind cut hands. He was shivering, as if sobbing silently in the cold night. That or, perhaps he was indeed weeping to himself. The idea only made Kiyle cringe more.

"Where is he to bed tonight?"

Grudan's head snapped up.

"Hm?"

"The elf." Kiyle clarified, waving a thin hand. "Where is he to sleep?"

The burly man raised a brow at the question.

"Right where he is now, I'd imagine." He answered honestly. "Why?"

Anger hit the younger sibling like a pound of falling bricks. Why? _Why? _Because it's cold tonight and he's hurt. Because Mother would have given him a place to sleep and he looks dead beat at the moment. Because he's all alone right now and probably very hungry. Kiyle could think up a dozen reasons without hesitation. But all that came out was a small sentence, holding everything he could have said into one.

"He's not an animal, Grudan." He pierced his brother with a furious glance.

He _willed_ the elder to understand, to make out just what he was trying to say. _We aren't supposed to be cruel. _Their Mother had taught them well before her untimely death; did he not remember what she had said?

"No, he's not an animal. " Grudan stated in a firm voice. "But he is a slave. Slaves sleep where they're put."

"He's an elf!" Kiyle insisted angrily.

Grudan scowled.

"Indeed he is." He looked straight into his brother's eyes. "But he's _my_ elf, Ki. _My _slave and I say he's fine right where he is!"

Enraged, the brown-haired younger stood up abruptly, his eyes enflamed. He turned away from his sibling and marched off towards where his tent was placed, not being able to hold the conversation longer. He would not condone the treatment given to the elven being, not matter how much he loved his brother. It was wrong and nothing would change that.

"Where are you going?" Grudan's voice filtered back into his ears, making something snap.

Kiyle whirled about.

"To bed!" He hissed, brow furrowed. "You'd do well if you keep from speaking to me further right now! So good night!"

Without waiting for a response from his befuddled sibling, Kiyle stomped off like a fussy child denied a snack to his tent.

Yet even as he readied himself for slumber and unrolled his blankets on the ground, his mind wandered back to the chained immortal. Cursing, he let out a stressed breath and sat back on his heels, closing his lids to calm himself.

Grudan had been arrogant in his power over the elf and that was what really upset the young man. It was unjust and unnecessary for the being to remain in his thin clothing, barefoot and bound without shelter of any kind. He could be contained without route to escape inside a tent just as well as outside one. The chains had seen to that.

Huffing, Kiyle pulled off his soft leather boots and tossed them away, nearly causing his oil lamp to tumble over. Then, curling his cloak around his bundle of discarded clothing, he lay down on his bedroll, using it as a pillow.

He listened as the crickets tuned the night air with their rhymed melodies, humming to each other and acting as comfort to the weary campers. The pleasant rustle of leaves in the breeze was soft and delicate, whispering through the cloth of the tent. The sounds of the night caressed the lad as he lay still, breathing steady so not to block the beauty of it.

Soon his eyes became heavy and slowly slid closed. But even as sleep stole upon him he promised that tomorrow, tomorrow he would befriend the elf his brother had crudely won from another trader. Tomorrow he'd show the immortal that not all humans were cruel.

With those thoughts in his mind, he drifted off to the land of dreams.

* * *

**_Annnd I've come back to the land of the living with a new and improved version of this story! Whoo hoo! However! If you've noticed mistakes (as I'm sure you have) I'd like to find a solution for that. Therefore I am looking for a good beta reader to help me out where I'm blind when it comes to writing. I'm a tough girl, so critism won't kill me if it's given kindly. My format is Microsoft Word and I'll have to email my copies to whoever offers to be my beta reader. Now if you turn out to beta for me I'd need my document looked over and returned with in a day and a half. so yea..._**

**_Anyway! I'm pleased that people were still into this story!_**

**_Thanks so much!_**

**_-Ireland Ranger-_**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Curse of Morality  
****A Lord of the Rings Fanfiction**

**Chapter 2****  
**

It was dawn when Legolas was awoken from his troubled slumber. He uncurled from his position, trying not to make too much noise with his chains and looked about to see what exactly had made him wake.

He froze when his eyes made out a figure crawling from one of the tents. Swallowing, he shivered when he saw the young man turn his gaze towards him, making him shrink back in anxiousness. The human did not come near, simply standing in the dim light and watching him with keen emerald orbs. Hesitantly, the elf tried to make himself smaller, hoping that the human would go about his business and think him uninteresting.

However it was not to be. The young man came forward, his gait careful but steady, as if trying not to scare off a wild animal. Legolas found himself debating on whether he should be insulted by the fact or not and situated himself with watching the man come close warily.

The human was in his teenage years by the look of his features. He had dark brown hair that hung low, uneven around his face and deep green eyes the color of seaweed. The form of his body was frail, however, and he seemed to be rather lean compared to his brother. Kiyle, that was the name his new master had called him so fondly while smiling and laughing together. It had been long since Legolas had been given reason to act so cheerfully and he found himself slightly jealous of the siblings in that regard.

But right now Kiyle's lips were in a firm line of displeasure and the elf was curious as to the reason. He had watched the brothers fight before retiring the night before, so perhaps this look of dissatisfaction was a result born of that conversation. Perhaps the human lad wished to vent and a certain chained elf with no hope of fleeing was a perfect target. Legolas hoped that idea wasn't factual. He was hurting enough as it was and didn't look forward to being forced to endure more.

Then again, his wishes hardly mattered when it came to a master/slave relationship. With him always standing the act of slave, of course. His training for the past years had ground that reality into his existence with brutal measures. Young to the elven race he might be, but he was no stranger to pain and torment. His knowledge of torture was far beyond that of an old elf and it branded his soul deeply. The very thought of being near a human, especially one of his captors, made Legolas' insides quiver more than he was willing to admit. He tried to suppress it, tried to keep strong, but it was just so _hard_.

So it was a natural reaction to the elf to stiffen when the human crouched by him, a strange look in his emerald orbs. His body was afraid and he could hardly blame himself for feeling such a way.

Kiyle paused, as if not sure of what to say, as he looked into the elf's eyes. The first born watched him blankly until he swallowed, gaining some courage to speak.

"Are you…cold?"

Legolas made no response, raising a brow at the question, surprised but cautious. The mortal had asked gently, as if he really was concerned. From what his memory could offer, the last person to ask Legolas about wellbeing in such a manner had been forced cruelly away from him years ago. Experience, though, had taught the battered elf well and he knew better that to even try to think of befriending this boy. He considered it a futile and hopeless idea.

No, he wasn't as foolish as he once had been. Time was a dangerous teacher.

Piercing blue eyes watched the thin young man as he fiddled, awaiting an answer that he would not receive. It took a few long moments of awkward silence before the human seemed to grasp the fact that he would not hear the soft voice of the enslaved elf. He heaved a sigh before trying once again to pry a response from the immortal.

"Do…do you speak the common tongue?" He hesitated. "I mean, you're an elf so you obviously speak elvish or whatever but...Well you've been living with humans for a while now right? Because elves don't practice slavery. Well, from what I've heard anyway. They could, I suppose. Then again I don't know anything about you, so you could have been a slave your whole life and don't even know elvish. Or you've just recently been captured and don't understand what I'm saying which would be embarrassing because I'm rambling…."

Kiyle stopped, face red with blushing humiliation and winced as the elf blinked at him.

"Sorry." He mumbled out, biting his lower lip. "I'm just…curious. I've never met one of the first born before and I might have gotten a bit excited."

Legolas looked away, avoiding the thin human's gaze. Once again silence fell on the pair as dawn was slowly blending into morning.

"Erm…" The elf looked over at Kiyle again, hiding his annoyance behind a well-practiced impassive face. "So…I'm Grudan's brother. I mean, your _master's_ brother! Sorry."

Legolas didn't move from his stare, causing the human to twitch.

"What I meant was...my name's Kiyle. I'm sure you know that though, from Grudan and all that." The boy smiled weakly, scratching his head. "So, what I mean to ask is, well, I'd like to know your name." He faltered slightly under the unmoving sapphire eyes. "If you don't mind, that is…and if you can understand me."

The young man waited tensely, obviously not expecting his question to be answered by the silent being before him. Legolas, for his part, decided to humor the mortal, if for no other reason than making him go away. He wasn't fond of attention and he had a sneaking suspicion that if Gurdan, _his master_, crawled out of bed to find his property being messed with there would be anger spurting. Brother or not, Kiyle didn't seem to understand the concept of 'hands off what isn't yours'. That means any interaction whatsoever.

With those thoughts in mind the elf sighed to himself, hating the fact that he was forced to analyze the simplest situation for survival.

"Legolas."

Kiyle's eyes widened.

"What?"

_Dim-witted human!_

"My name…" The elf repeated calmly, his voice musical. "…is Legolas."

The young man grinned then, pleased that he had gotten the strange creature before him to communicate, no doubt.

"That's great!" Kiyle laughed a little. "You can talk!"

Legolas heaved a breath, resting his chained hands on his knees in an effort to keep his composer. Years of self-enforced adaption had made the elf careful of his words, his manners and how he acted in general around those who subjected him to their will. That did not mean that he was broken and never got irritated though. Miserable and lonely he may be but that hardly defined his whole character.

"I can." He stated simply.

The human stuttered.

"Uh, well, of course you can!" Kiyle added pathetically. "I just didn't know if you were willing to talk and all. Especially with how upset you looked last night."

Legolas made no reply to that.

"Look…" The boy continued slowly, probably realizing that he wasn't really making good conversation. "Gurdan's not that bad. He's a little conceited at times and can certainly be rough, but he won't hurt you or anything. I won't either."

"Master Gurdan's actions will speak for him." The blue-eyed elf spoke evenly, finally conceding to the forced talk. "Men change easily, Master Kiyle and I have known many."

The teenager frowned.

"Just Kiyle is fine, thanks."

The elf looked at him hard, but nodded.

"Kiyle then."

The lad smiled, showing a row of white teeth. He sat himself down on the ground, tired from remaining crouched for so long. Legolas shifted uncomfortably at the human's closeness, his chains rattling with the movement. Once again a feeling of anxiousness stole upon him and he fixed his gaze on the ground, avoiding the mortal beside him.

"So where are you from, Legolas?" Kiyle asked, snatching a twig from the dirt and twitting it between his fingers.

The elven being jumped at the sound of his name, head snapping towards the speaker with shock barely contained on his face. The human didn't notice though and he quickly recovered from being addressed so normally for once.

"The Greenwood." He stated, quiet and unyielding. "It is my birthplace."

Kiyle's green eyes grew large at the response.

"Truly?" He inquired further, his tone delighted.

Legolas glanced at him.

"Yes."

The youthful human chuckled, a smirk playing over his face.

"So you _are _lighter than!" He concluded happily, though Legolas appeared confused.

"Pardon?"

The lad just waved a hand through the air, his smile never fading.

"Just something Jud and I were wondering about." He wove the twig through his fingers as he spoke. "We were trying to figure out your homeland by the color of your hair. Rivendell elves are dark, according to Jud. So we thought Lothlorien or Greenwood the Great." He winked. "I guess we were right."

"Oh." Legolas looked away again, not sure what else to say.

"So…" Kiyle set his eyes on the elf. "How did you come to be here? Enslaved I mean."

At that the immortal's eyes flashed and a scowl crossed his fair features. He hadn't expected such an outright question from the human, but then again he supposed that he should have. Mortals were infamous for butting into another's business just because they were in want to know. He hated the plain demand for information on something so private, something that gave him a _little_ control.

"That is none of your concern!" He hissed suddenly, a vicious glint in his eye.

Oh his emotions were so flippant lately.

Kiyle looked taken aback by the outburst, flinching a little at the sound. He set his gaze on the elf and received one like twin daggers in return. The elf was breathing rapidly and his hands were clenched shut, despite the bindings on them. The boy had not meant to offend the elf, that much Legolas could tell by his look, but that wasn't the point.

The immortal and mortal stared at one another silently, neither moving their eyes away from the other. To the elf, this was a struggle to feel some power over his own life; regardless of how many times these humans had tried to beat the fight out of him. Over and over again he had been whipped for choosing not to sleep when told, not eating when ordered and sometimes not obeying simply because they addressed him like a dog.

He was tired of it, true, but he wouldn't stop. Not when he had breath in his body and a brain in his head.

To Kiyle the Legolas' response was not expected and looked upon with a raised brow. One moment the elf had appeared calm, collected even and the next had had snapped like a tiger protecting its young. It was odd, but he knew that there were probably reasons behind it.

Legolas made no move when the youthful man suddenly looked away and stood up, cracking his back with a moan. He expected a kick or punch to the face at least and tensely awaited his punishment with a locked jaw.

However Kiyle only yawned, looking back to the center of the camp where his brother's hired cook had begun breakfast undetected. When he turned back to the elf, he gave a soft grin.

"Hungry?" He asked.

The slave ground his teeth, wondering if the question was a taunt of some kind. He surprised himself by giving the human a stiff nod before casting his eyes away, seething at himself for being weak. Well, it had been a while since he'd eaten last.

"Good." Kiyle said cheerfully. "Because I can snatch some grub for you from Wheezy without a problem. He's always eager to spread his recipes to new mouths."

The tension slowly ebbed from the elf and he watched the man cautiously as he bounded away to grab a meal for himself and the first born. A sigh escaped his bony chest as he observed more mortals waking to the new day and scurrying about the camp. He considered Kiyle's reaction to his outburst off, considering what he had experienced in the past. Anything from a slap to a full-blown lashing had been freely given at the slightest chance.

Instead, the teenager had just ignored it, joyfully going off to snitch some food.

In Legolas' understanding of men, it hardly mattered with age when it came to being cruel. He had met children no older than five who had spit and shouted at him for merely being there. More often than not they ran off to their parents, telling them he had growled at them and standing by later with smug smiles as he was whipped.

Kiyle wasn't exactly a huge mystery when he compared him to those monstrous children though. Legolas had once received kindness just as any other being, but it had been so long. Even if Kiyle wasn't being actually 'kind' the elf was somewhat grateful for it.

By the time the young man returned from socializing with the other traders and saying 'good mornings' to everyone he met, the entire camp was up. The mortals went about eating, packing and loading supplies like ants, eager to get a move on to the next destination. Not that Legolas knew where that was anyway.

Grudan was awake as well, but far too busy to notice his little brother eating contently by his elf. Thank the Valar for small mercies.

When Legolas took the first bite of his breakfast it took all his self-control not to wolf down the rest like an animal. He tried, he really did, to not tremble at the sudden substance entering his body for the first time in days, but it seemed to be futile. He even drank the coffee he had been given, despite the bitterness of the drink and the dislike he had always had for it. But it was hot, it was nourishing and it was going on a dry throat, so in the end it hardly mattered to the captive.

When the meal was completely consumed, leaving no crumb or scrap left, he looked up to see Kiyle watching him yet again with wide eyes.

"You really were starving then, weren't you?" It was more a statement than a question. "No joke."

Legolas said nothing, diverting his eyes and gingerly returning the barrowed plate and mug. He was more than grateful when the boy took the items without further comment and left to have them washed.

* * *

_**Thanks to those who reviewed! **_

_**I'm still on the look out for a beta reader, so if you want to do it just PM me, or if you know a good one please let me know! **__**You'll be seeing chapter 3 the days after tomorrow. I figured that updates would be easer that way, especially since I already have a good number of chapters done. **_

_**Elladan comes in next chapter! and he is BA a little...**_

_**Thanks to yall who favorited, followed and the like!**_

_**-Ireland Ranger-**_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Curse of Mortality  
A Lord of the Rings Fanfiction**

**Chapter 3**

_Swing. Duck. Shift. Strike!_

Two figures danced dangerously by each other, weapons held high in greetings of death while they avoided each other's blows. About the forest scene lay three bloodied thieves, each having been forced into meeting their mortality before their time. They were each dressed in the dark colors of the wood, masked faces hiding their identities as cowards of law often do to bypass discovery. Not that the fact had saved them in their unjust work.

Now only one remained living, though his strength was waning fast and his body was brutalized by cuts gained from his current combat. He knew it was only a matter of time before his life gave way to the stranger's blade, wielded with inhuman stealth and ability. Yet he would rather die fighting then fleeing, regardless if his final goal had been honorable or not.

In the end though, he knew he never should have tried to trick this…_creature_.

The person had come by their settlement only three day prior, cloaked and strange. He had bunked in the little tavern there and gathered supplies from the market. The unnamed thief and his companions had been sure he was easy prey, alone and moody as they thought him. It would prove to be an easy job of cornering, stealing and disposing of the evidence before discovery.

The bandits had made act that they too were leaving the settlement and had offered for the stranger to come along in a friendly tone. He had agreed warily, dark eyes watching the men like a hawk, but the outlaws had given no second thought to it.

All had gone well until they had put their plan into play, catching the loner unawares and demanding his fare. The sharp-faced man did not even flinch to the knife being put to his throat, looking up into his foes' eyes with deadly intent. That was when he struck, clean, fatal and so swift that the action was hardly registered before he launched again.

Never had the bandit seen movement like that. Never had he seen a warrior so formidable and dangerous as this. His two living companions had tried to flee, only to be cut down by two daggers, flying sharply through the air to be buried in their backs. The thief feared then, terrified like never before in his life when the being turned towards him. He fought, but he knew his failure was written in the book of fate and he cursed the first glance he ever had on this person.

He cut desperately at his intended victim with animal instincts for survival. But the creature just parried them away without concern swinging a beautifully made blade. Then with a quick twist, the dagger was thrown from the human's grip, his terror mounting as he was pushed back against a tree by the shining weapon's tip at his throat. He feared death, even if he had always expected it in his daily life. He didn't want to die, but somehow he didn't think that the raven-haired stranger cared much for that.

Still, he had nothing to lose now.

"Please sir!" He begged shamelessly, panting and sweating as hid hyper-sensitive nerves prickled under the sword's edge. "I have a wife and children-!"

"Silence!"

The voice was calm and cold, devoid of mercy.

The bandit bit his lip in horror, awaiting his neck to be sliced and his lifeblood to give out freely upon the ground.

"I am looking for two people." The stranger spoke carefully, his eyes settling on his prisoner. "People very dear to me."

Realizing just what his captor was implying, the thief bit his lip nervously and shivered.

"W-who?"

A smile, petrifying and terrible stretched across the milky-white face and the unidentified person cocked his head at the question. His eyes glittered warning as he spoke, pushing on his blade just enough to draw blood.

"Two elves." He stated. "One dark-haired and one light. Both look to be about my age, which shouldn't be too difficult. Actually…" He paused, smirking as he leaned in close to the man's face. "One of them even shares my looks to identical proportions."

The outlaw swallowed in the other's grasp, trembling at the deep emotions behind the tone that the words took. He suddenly understood just what kind of mistake he and his fellow lawbreakers had made. This man that held him so firmly was no man at all. He had tried to waylay an elf! One of the noble first born! A being bred with everything a human was not; his senses more keen than even the most trained hermit.

"I-I…."The man was at a loss for words.

The elf slammed him against the tree for good measure, rocking his mind back to crude reality.

"Your kind deal in black market trading, gambling and slave dealings, do not try and test me, thief!" He pounded him against the tree again, growling this time. "Answer me! Did you see them?"

The bandit all but sobbed helplessly, going limp in the elven hands that held him captive. Weakly and moaning, he shook his head.

"No, no!" He cried out, his voice pleading. "I've not been in such business that deep for a while! I haven't seen them! Please believe me!"

For a long moment there was no sound in the forest but the weeping of the boneless man as he wept out his tears all over the elf's hands. It was pathetic, he knew, but he was hardly a good image of strong character traits.

Then the sharp, cold metal was removed from his jugular and he gasped, grasping his throat with a quivering hand. He looked up with watery eyes at the immortal that stood watching him impassively, his eyes narrowed. After a few seconds of the bandit regaining his composure, the elf gestured to his fallen companions with the masterpiece of a blade.

"Bury your friends with haste, the night will come and they're bodies must not be left out to be devoured." He thinned his lips, looking directly into the human's eyes with unmoving orbs. "Then you will turn yourself in to the nearest town marshal for judgment. Try to avoid doing so and believe me when I say…" The raven-haired being sheathed his blade, metal sliding on metal. "I will come after you and _nothing _will spare you from my weapon. I have given you mercy, remember that. Now, am I clear?"

The bandit bobbed his head eagerly, willing to do just about anything if it meant keeping his life inside his body. He got chills when the elf smiled then, pleased with the outcome of his work.

"Good." He turned away and pulling his daggers from the two dead men. "I'm glad we were able to reach a mutual decision."

He scooped up the pack he had discarded before battling the thieves and looped it through his arms, shrugging his shoulders to make it comfortable. Then he snatched up the bow and quiver he had also tossed aside, putting one of his shoulders and holding the weapon in the palm of his hand. Then, without further adieu, he began to stroll from the scene as if nothing had happened just then, leaving the poor outlaws standing awkwardly amounts his dead friends. He just watched the elf walk away unharmed.

Then the immortal turned back around quite suddenly and fixing him with serious eyes.

"I nearly forgot…could you tell me where is the nearest black-market gathering about here?" He asked the question politely, but only heaven knows what he would have done if the answer had been withheld.

"Two days south on foot." The bandit frowned. "A town called Symphony. Folks are friendly enough and the residence has no idea what goes on under the table."

"Indeed?" The first born looked interested. "How is that?"

The man rolled his shoulders, looking away from the two dark eyes that pierced him.

"It's a nice place, but it also has one of the biggest back gambling taverns in this side of the country." An anxious face came over him. "Most of the trades are set up before hand and made to look like real games. Fixed decks, leaded dice and the like. You'll usually know who you're playing, what you're going to win and how much you're going to lose. That way a business deal is never singled out and both sides get what they want without any suspicious glares."

The elf looked surprised by the information, obviously not expected such an open system for black-marketing. It was ingenious and truly undetected if the town was known for its love of chancing everything on a deck of cards or dice.

"Creative." He commented honestly. "Who set that idea up?"

The thief hesitated this time, truthfully not sure whether to answer. However after a few moments of silence the elven creature hadn't moved, still looking expectantly towards the man for his reply. With a huff, he finally conceded.

"Cliff Famour." The name was almost whispered. "He takes the identity of a common farmer, land and barns for keeping stock." He glanced at the other being. "Only his stock hasn't anything that has to do with farming. If you're looking for slaves, elf, they'd of gone through there and certainly not without proper training."

The first born's pupils became small, his features scowling as he snarled.

"Torture you mean?"

The man scratched his chin with a sigh.

"You could put it that way, yes. Cliff wouldn't have allowed them through without being broken first. It's the way of things there." He grunted. "Cliff's a dangerous employer. It's also one of the reasons I lowered myself to petty robbery. Things were getting too intense back then and I decided backing out would be best before it really got bad."

The elf looked him over, arching one elegant eyebrow in disbelief as he did.

"And you went on to honest work from there?" He stated with a bit of sarcasm that surprised the thief.

This elven warrior before him had just killed three of his companions in a mere matter of seconds before holding him at blade-point as well. His actions had been fast and instinctive, obviously trained killer from a young age. The dark eyes had been hard during the shuffle and it left the human gaping at the replacement of amusement he saw there.

"How do I meet with this Mister Famour?" The eyes resettled on him, blank once again.

"Just walk into the tavern and ask for him." The bandit shrugged. "It's really not that difficult to get a game set up."

The elf seemed to contemplate that for a while, gripping his bow firmly in his hand. A breeze blew suddenly through the forest, brushing the raven-colored hair gently and showing off the pointed ears of the first born. The outlaw found himself mesmerized by the oddness of delicate body part, so normal and yet so very beautifully different. Actually, when he thought about it the elf, male or not, was indeed a gratifying sight.

_So that is why they're called the fair folk._

Indeed, the creature was like a person pulled from a painting or story, with perfect proportions and soft skin. Now that he really looked at the being, he sort of regretted trying to rob him. Well, only slightly. The elf did kill without an effort of his part, so it wasn't like he was just going to forgive him for slaughtering his crew.

"If you're kindly done staring, you have bodies to bury and a cell that is awaiting you."

The look over the immortal's face was anything but bemused by the attention he so suddenly received. Though clear satisfaction shown through the façade as the man jumped to obey, not forgetting the deadliness he had witnessed this elf possessed. He wanted to live, and he knew that that meant complying with the orders, his comfort packed.

Yes, he had no doubt in his mind that this elf would come after him if he wasn't sitting gloomily in a prison by tomorrow morning. And personally, he preferred to live that then get disemboweled by a furious immortal. Yes, a stone box was looking quite pleasant in his mind all of a sudden.

The elf stood by as he dragged the dead men into a pile by their feet. He said not a word as the human began pounding away with a mobile pack-shovel, dirt tossing through the air. He remained still for hours, only leaning up against a tree and watching the man complete the first shallow grave. He unceremoniously dump one of the bodies into it before shifting the dirt over.

It was terribly unnerving and the thief was curious as to how anyone could stand still for so long, only shifted every so often and eyes never leaving his target. Would the first born truly watch him all through the day as he went about his task?

He was just about ready to voice he question when the elf suddenly perked up, his head tilted slightly as if listening to something beyond human capabilities.

"A party of volunteers under the settlement's marshal will be arriving shortly." The immortal's gaze settled on the thief. "You will turn yourself over to them upon sight."

The comment wasn't an option.

"But I thought you wanted me to-"

"I know what I said. However I did not inform you that I reported your where abouts today to the authorities before we even left." A mischievous glint caught the elven eyes. "What I said before was a precaution to make certain you handed yourself over if the marshal did not take my warning seriously. I hadn't intended to stay for so long, but I was curious to know if the lawmen followed my advice." He smiled lightly. "I am pleased that they did for once. But now I have stayed my journey enough."

The elf pushed off the tree and nodded.

"Thank you for your information."

With that, the being once again started to walk away without even waiting for a response from the human. However this time he did not turn back. Standing still, the bandit watched as he disappeared into the trees, leaving no trace of his existence. The thief had heard tales of the elven ability to vanish, but never did he believe it until he saw it himself.

Masters of weapons, beauty and stealth, that was how you defined an elf.

The thief stood there silently as marshal and his men broke through the trees and surrounded him. He didn't give a fight when they lowered their weapons on him and quickly placed him under arrest. One man bound his hands together while the rest looked over the unburied bodies and demanded answers as to what happened.

He told them, but he didn't think they'd believe him.

However he was proven wrong by the marshal himself, who stood shaking his head at the marvelous tale. He confirmed his belief in the bandit's story, surprising him quite a bit.

"You don't think I'm lying?" He asked, eyes wide with astonishment.

The old marshal glanced at him, a frown on his lips.

"Haven't you been listening to the latest gossip while snooping for easy prey in the taverns?" He inquired, a grey eyebrow arched.

The outlaw shrugged.

"Here and there."

The old man set his fists on his hips, a look of disapproval on his wrinkly face.

"Really sonny, if you're gonna rob people, you ought to do it right!" He waved a hand to the wood about them. "That elf has been in the common folk's talk lately. He's been seen randomly over the countryside for the past two years."

"Aye." Agreed on of the volunteers with a firm nod. "Saved an old woman from a burning house last month, then he hunted down those guilty of the deed and left them tied to trees for the authorities. People are starting to call him 'Dark Hood'. Silly, if you ask me, because he's only been seen once in full cowl."

From distant tree a pair of darkened eyes watched as the humans mounted with their prisoner and took off in the direction they came. A smile touched his lips at the nickname his elven ears had picked up and he couldn't help but chuckle.

Silly it was and hardly original, but he had to agree it suited him a little.

One way or another.

* * *

**_Sorry, I stuttered a bit with the ending of this chapter. Beta reader NEEDED...because for some reason when I PMed the people who volunteered as beta in the search, they never got back. So yea. _**

**_Anyway, I know 'Dark Hood' is, as the chapter says, hardly original, but my cute little brother said it and for some reason I couldn't resist. But whatever, we all know who this elf is right? I certainly hope you do!_**

**_Please read and review!_**

**_-Ireland Ranger-_**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Curse of Mortality**  
**A Lord of the Rings Fanfiction**

**Chapter Four**

As the days flew by Legolas was beginning to settle into his position under a new master. He was pleased to find that so far Gurdan had indeed proved to be kinder then his past owners had been, but that didn't mean he couldn't be crude. Kiyle was right when he said he brother could be conceited, power-hungry even, despite his general inclination towards charity. Already he had enforced little hardships on his slave for no other reason than to make it clear who was in control.

To Legolas it couldn't be considered out of the ordinary, but Kiyle had all but spit fire at the harsh treatment.

The young man had spent nearly an hour scolding and arguing with his sibling over the fact that Gurdan had denied the elf a midday meal. In truth, the immortal wasn't bothered by the enforcement since he had gone days without a scrap before. However it did warm his heart slightly at the firm refusal Kiyle demonstrated to get his point across. It had been a long while since someone had done likewise in his name.

In the end, the lad had won due to the fact that Gurdan was simply too annoyed to continue the debate.

His chores were simple about the camp. Scrubbing pots, pitching tents, helping cook, feeding the horses and cleaning clothing whenever there was enough water to do so were certainly not alien jobs for the young elf. He contented himself with the normality of it to a certain degree. For the most part he kept his head down, working until his jobs were complete and then enjoying the time he had left to relax beneath a whispering tree.

Kiyle often came by around then, preferring the quiet company of the slave to the boisterous members of the trading party. He spoke of everything under the sun, a bright smile plastered over his face and his imagination running wild. Legolas quickly found himself appreciating the frail boy's personality and open–heartedness. Sometimes the youthful human even tried to help out with his duties, before being called off by his elder.

Legolas, for his part, made an effort to keep his peace around Gurdan. He honestly feared the big man a tad bit, knowing the power the mortal truly held over him. It was after the first few months of being enslaved that the young elf had the truth of his situation drilled into him. He knew the limits he could walk and was careful never to cross the line too far.

Currently Legolas was busied with rubbing heatedly at dirty dishes with a rough cloth, sweat gathered on his forehead at the effort it took as he knelt by a small stream. His long golden hair was pulled back in a ponytail and tied with an old scrap of sack he'd torn from an emptied bag of horse oats. A few strands of hair had escaped however and stuck to his skin, but he didn't bother pushing them back.

He increased his effort on the pan, cursing at the difficulty he was having with such a simple task. He decided that whatever Wheezy cooked with, regardless of how good it made the food taste, was the bane of abused dishes and their appointed washers. If he was permitted, he would probably march right up to the cook and tell him never to use the sticky ingredient again unless he cleaned up after the catastrophe.

The picture brought a small, but amused smile to his face, relishing in how he imagined the shock looming of the human's face. Oh yes, he could enjoy that. Especially with the ugly and disapproving looks that particular man had given him.

"Now I've seen everything." Legolas looked up at the sound of Kiyle's voice. "A person who smiles while scrubbing pots? Clearly something is not right!"

The teenager shook his head, sitting by the elf as he rolled his eyes and continued about his task.

"You could always join me." Legolas mumbled quietly, but the tiny jest was surprisingly in his voice as he gestured to the few remaining dirty objects in need of cleansing.

"Hm, that's true I suppose." Kiyle scooped up a pot and dunked it deep into the water. He swirled it around a bit before glancing over at the hard-working elf. "So what do you think about sleeping in my tent tonight? It's getting colder as fall is beginning to sweep it."

The immortal shrugged, sighing as he finally completed the defiantly pan and placed it on the bank. This was the second time the lad had asked.

"I doubt Master Gurdan would allow such a thing. But thank you for the offer."

He knew that Kiyle was just trying to be kind, but the boy didn't see the flaws in such an action. The traders would probably get wind of it and scoff at the idea of a slave receiving any form of special treatment. They would curse, stick their noses up and eventually go off to Gurdan with tongues wagging how pampering a slave could only bring about bad business and whatnot.

Honestly, humans were so nosy in so many different ways!

"Oh, come on Legolas!" Kiyle poked him in the arm. "I could talk Gurdan into let you stay with me, no problem! Come on! It gets chilly at night, even in the northern deserts of Harad."

"I just don't think it's a good idea, Ki." The elf spoke softly, careful not to be overheard. "I'm fine outside. Elves do not feel the cold like humans do."

The stern look he received was serious.

"I know you're not really 'fine' as you say." The young human stated with a steady voice. "I hear you sometimes when I stay up late." Green eyes grew hard. "You've cried out in your sleep."

_"Elladan! Go! Get help!"_

The information didn't slap Legolas in the face. He was more than well aware of his nightmares, for they never left him alone. He was certainly entitled to contain evening horrors after what he'd been through, however he didn't' like the sounds of distress being heard so openly. And if Kiyle heard it in the late hours of the night, who else might have been listening to his whimpers and cries? Attention wasn't craved for or needed in his current life pattern.

"It's not unusual." Legolas insisted without force. "Don't worry too much over it."

Kiyle harrumphed.

"That's a very foolish thing to say, elf, and you know it!" He scolded unhappily. "I can't just _not_ be concerned. That would be cold."

"Perhaps but-"

"Kiyle!"

Both the elf and young human turned at the voice that had cut Legolas off. Gurdan was marching up to them in a steady gait, causing the elven eyes to widen and his body to become tense. Quickly, he glanced at the work he had completed, hoping he wouldn't be scolded for pausing or lacking in his duties.

Kiyle grinned at his brother as he approached, oblivious to Legolas' sudden and stiff change in demeanor. In a little way it made the elf feel grateful that the lad didn't have his complete attention on him constantly. Because he honestly could not stand the sensation of a gaze boring into his back or a consistent monitoring of his movements.

He didn't look up as Kiyle did, hoping to appear anything but above his station.

"Well, you look happy." The youthful human commented to his sibling with cheer. "What happened?"

"Nothing besides the usual bickering about fair shares and just payment that we get every year." Gurdan grunted, rolling his eyes. "And every year I wonder why I partner with such greedy toads."

"For the profit, of course." Kiyle smiled. "You usually make more selling as a group rather than alone."

Gurdan frowned, brow furrowing.

"I should probably try to prove that theory wrong."

"You can't disprove fact, Gurd." The younger insisted. "You just don't attract people on your own. In my own opinion, I think it's the face. Your nose especially."

The elder brother looked insulted, glaring with dark and narrowed eyes. Kiyle only laughed, nudging Legolas in the arm as he did so and causing the elf to jump.

"Well you're one to talk." Gurdan growled, waving an accusing hand. "Mr. I-always-have-spiked-hair-in-the-morning-and-don't -care-to-brush-it-down! Anyway, we need some firewood and since you're so _occupied_ at the moment…."

The boy seemed to consider a bit this before breaking into a large grin, a wicked glint in his emerald orbs.

"I suppose that's true, about the hair I mean. But at least I can fix that, unlike you. _You_ can't just get rid of your nose!"

"Kiyle…."

"Well! I better go get that wood!" The lad winked, standing up quickly and brushing himself off. "Wheezy can't cook without it and heaven only knows how long your protruding nostrils have been longing to flare at the scent of a delicious meal." He patted his brother's cheek in a mocking manner as he walked by. "We can't have such a _huge, gigantic and menacing_ nose suffer now can we?"

"Get back here you little tramp!"

Legolas couldn't help but smile as the offended Gurdan made a swipe at Kiyle, who easily ducked the strike before sticking out his tongue, infuriating his sibling more. The elf had to scramble out of way as the burly human barreled into his brother, casting both of them into the stream with a splash. He gaped in surprise as the two roughly tried to dunk one another under the surface, seemingly without care of the other's health.

Kiyle was a lot smaller then Gurdan, but that hardly stopped him from being just as brutal when it came to rustling. He bit, punched and kicked like a feline forced to take a bath against his will. If anyone in the pair was being remotely careful, it was definitely the elder brother. They laughed and insulted each other playfully, a sight that made some of the other members of the camp stop and look on in amusement. The noise of Kiyle's mocking and Gurdan's cheerful snarls filling the air.

As they splashed about in the water Legolas found himself at a loss of what to do. He was a nervous about just getting up and going about his other duties and yet he wondered if they considered it appropriate for him to just kneel there and watch the scene unfolding. In the end the young elf decided on staying put, knowing from the few days he'd been with Gurdan that the human had an uncanny personality that flipped quickly. One minute he would be upset, the next….well the next moment he was in a stream with his arms hooked playfully around his little brother as they soaked themselves to the bone.

Five more minutes of water leaping free from the wild activities going on within the bank and the siblings finally emerged from the stream, dripping and lips split in wide grins. As they plopped themselves on the grass, Legolas stood up, the newly cleaned pots and pans filling his arms. He began to stroll away once he deemed himself in safe ground, but Gurdan's voice called after him.

"Elf!" The immortal froze, glancing back with a lump in his throat. "Bring us some dry clothing from our packs, would you?"

He nodded, all but rushing away when the human turned his attention on Kiyle once more. He swiftly delivered the restored cooking items into Wheezy's capable care and hurried off to his master's tent.

He located the pack easily enough after slipping into the pitched shelter. Gurdan had ordered him to bring his belongings from the horses and set them neatly up inside. Legolas was actually grateful that he had been told to do so, that way he already knew where and what things were and couldn't be accused of searching through Gurdan's things.

The elf pulled out shirt, trousers and a new pair of socks before bundling them up and scurrying out of the tent. He did likewise for Kiyle, though it took him a bit longer due to the fact that he had a very messy set-up going on inside his small shelter. But he was eventually able to find all the articles he needed and was soon rushing back to the stream with the clothing in his arms.

Legolas noticed the change in Gurdan's demeanor the moment he saw his face upon returning. He had a face flowing with displeasure and seemed to be trying to avoid whatever it was Kiyle was so insistent upon talking of. As he neared, he caught the last sentence that spilled from the youth's mouth that made such an effect on his brother.

"….and we both know Mother would have scolded and maybe even punished you harshly for even _considering_ this! It's disgraceful!"

Gurdan growled, signaling for Legolas to come closer when he spotted him.

"If it bothers you so much, ignore it!"

"I can't just-"

"That is enough, Kiyle!" The elder sibling finally shouted, his face red in anger. "My say is final. We will not speak of this again."

He turned towards Legolas, snatching the bundle he was handed gruffly and headed off to dress into warm clothing. The elf was painfully careful to step away when the man stomped by, not wanting to be even considered as a way of venting. He watched with cautious blue eyes as Gurdan disappeared from view before turning to Kyle.

Legolas handed the second pile to him and it was received with mumbled 'thanks'.

"Are..." The immortal paused, wondering if he should continue. The miserable look the young human gave him was enough to prompt him.

"Are you alright?" He asked, voice soft and undemanding.

Kiyle rolled his eyes up and muttered something about 'incopetent older brothers' and 'bashing head into a tree'. He cast his sea-weed green eyes on the waiting elf and sighed.

"I asked him to let you sleep in my tent tonight."

Oh. So _that _was what lit the flame under Gurdan.

"I told you I was fine, Kiyle." Legolas said, looking away. "There was no need to do that."

The young human didn't respond to that comment, waving a dismissive hand through the air.

"That wasn't why he got angry." He smiled keenly at the elf. "He actually said it would be fine as long as you didn't slack up on your chores."

Legolas stared at him in slight shock, not completely understanding.

"I see." He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what had happened in the short time he had fetched the clothing. "Thank you."

Kiyle saw his confusion right away, even though the elf had tried to contain it.

"It was more of a….personal argument between us." He informed the immortal obligingly. "You don't have to worry about it. We had similar ones before and your presence just…added a few logs to the fire."

Legolas nodded, trying to decipher the meaning behind Kiyle's words. He knew that the human was keeping information from him, even though it was well within his rights to do so. But that didn't mean that he wasn't curious. He was well aware that the argument had started based on him and he regretted that he had been the cause of a quick ending to the sibling's playful banter. He wanted to know what could flip Gurdan's emotions like that so that he could perhaps avoid causing such. He knew that his health and treatment depended on it.

"I'm sorry." The elf eventually said, pasting his gaze on his knees as he sat still.

Kiyle shook his head, a comforting grin on his face.

"It wasn't your fault, forget about it. Gurdan can be a pain sometimes and nobody can hold the blame for that." He chuckled to himself. "Except maybe me."

He stood up then, clutching his dry clothing in one hand and offering Legolas the other. The elf hesitantly took it, allowing himself to be hauled up from the ground by the mortal. He steadied himself and nodded his thanks with a small smile. Kiyle returned the face ten times over, looking quite pleased with himself for forced such a look from the slave.

"Anyway…" The boy continued, the content look not leaving his face. "I've got to get dressed and scour up some firewood before Wheezy starts sulking and my wonderful older brother goes on a rampage about something else." He glanced at Legolas. "You'd be well to do likewise."

The immortal nodded in agreement.

"I have tasks to complete still." He stated lightly, then added. "I thank you for allowing me to use your tent."

Once again, Kiyle seemed to ignore the grateful expression, only giving a grin to say he acknowledged anything.

"I'll see you around, Legolas."

The elf didn't move as the human strolled away. His bruised heart was too busy processing the fact that he may, after so many years of cruelty, torment and loneliness, found a companion. Not yet a friend, but certainly a comforting presence to be in the company of.

He walked off to continue his chores, but his heart was light and a spark glittered in his sapphire eyes. A glimpse of joy had weaseled its way to him and he could not describe the relief he had when he felt it.

* * *

**_Read and review!_**

**_Some side notes...this is not a slash fanfiction story, being smut and mature content free. Also, I'd like to thanks those few people who reviewed for this story. I know it being a rewrite + the first chapter being off a bit can make people lose interest. I'm fine with that because I have never been so determined to finish a story like this one. I'll get contentment out of being able to say I finished one._**

**_Responce to 'Guest': Elrohir is my favorite elf too, so I've saved him for last. I promise that if you stick to the story until he comes in, you won't regret it. _**

**_Anyway, I'm still looking for a beta reader! Please let me know if you know of one or want to do it! Updates are every other day._**

**_Thanks!_**

**_-Ireland Ranger-_**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Curse of Mortality  
A Lord of the Rings Fanfiction**

**Chapter Five**

Elladan carefully picked his way along the trees that held the town of Symphony in their protection, his dark eyes scanning the people as they went to and fro, scurrying about like ants on a busy day. He sat crouched on a large branch, unseen by the passersby from the height above, mapping the sight before him in his mind.

Often in his unyielding training to be a warrior, the elf had practiced this task of memorization, forcing himself to pinpoint the weak spots in any facility the trainees took them. When he and the other students were incorrect, or their theories flawed, they were forced to remain until they figured it out. Now, he greatly appreciated the skill, understanding and excepting the importance of it the veteran warriors had been keen on implanting in the novice young minds.

Now he could execute the task with the superiority of a seasoned fighter, so great had been his dedication to becoming the best there ever was. He had strove to master every form of combat and strategy he could, his mind never leaving the image of his brother and friend as they were carried off before his eyes, screaming his name in worry. He had become a warrior for them and for no one else, his whole purpose revolving around setting out to find them.

His father had not stopped him, the toll of losing both wife and son in so short a span biting cruelly into his soul. The blow had been hard on him and though he had tried to still be there for his remaining son and daughter, Lord Elrond had withdrawn his emotions inside, trying not to break. Elladan knew it too. Every time he saw his father he felt the sorrow he bottled up inside, no matter what façade was invented to cover it.

The torments of his father alone would have been enough to make up his mind and set his course if he had not already. In the end, his sister went off to Lothlorien to stay with their grandmother through her elven grief and Elladan took it upon himself to do what must be done.

He would find his brother. He would find his friend. Let all of fate stand against him and still he would find a way. He knew they lived and when there was life, there was hope.

Now, using the lessons that had been taught to him in his years of hard training, Elladan filed the town's setup in his mind and carefully made his way back along the branch. Climbling down was little to no effort for the elf and he did so without any notice from the men.

Pulling up the deep grey hood he usually wore in human towns to avoid attention; the nolder elf stepped out from behind the tree and swept onto the dirt street, his eyes watchful of those about him. For the most part he relied on his elven hearing so as not to see the curious faces of the townspeople watching him shamelessly. He mentally pulled up the map he had created in his mind and set out towards the inn.

Information first, confrontations later.

Soft leather boots padded up the wooden stairs and Elladan stretched out a careful hand to push in the open door. He stepped inside the place, the scents of freshly baked bread and newly brewed ale greeting his nostrils. Voices that clattered noisily against each other as costumers happily partook of their dinners, not even paying mind to the stranger in their midst.

That was one thing to be grateful for, he supposed.

Wordlessly Elladan crossed the floor to the counter. There was a slightly plump woman behind it, her rosy cheeks plastered with a delighted smile and her reddish-brown tresses falling over her shoulders in curls. She had stunning dark blue eyes, standing with compliments against her slightly tanned skin, an obvious result of Harad's sun. Even this far north it could shine dangerously at midday and many of the people were darkened by this.

She beamed at him.

"Can I help you sir?"

Elladan blinked, casting her a small smile of his own.

"A meal and some information would be very pleasing, if you would be so kind."

The woman nodded.

"That can be arranged." He gestured to an empty table in the corner of the room. "Just sit yourself over there and I'll fetch you something. Anything specific you desire?"

"Anything hot and filling with a cup of some coffee will do, miss."

"Very well."

She scribbled something down on a small pad and nodded again, rushing through a door in the back that no doubt led to the kitchens.

Elladan turned as the woman left, moving swiftly towards his assigned table and taking a seat where he could watch everything that went on. He waited patiently for his meal, analyzing what he could from the crowd of people that occupied the room.

Most looked to be like traveling peasants and simple folk, passing through town on business of some kind. There were two families with young children among them and he found it enjoyable to watch the mothers scold their children in a fond manner, a manner he missed receiving from his own matron. There were a few loners who looked downbeat and tied as they consumed their meals. Two more men who looked like they were trying to drown major after-pains of being drunk in coffee and one old woman who looked mad at the world.

Altogether he didn't really find any interesting characters that would be able to aid him in his search and he hoped that the waitress could provide some details he needed.

A few more minutes passed before the lady returned with a bounce in her step with steaming stew and coffee on a platter. She placed the food before him, her gay mood painfully noticeable as she stepped back and inclined her head.

"There you are sir." She smiled. "Do you want to talk while you eat? You said you wanted information…." She let her sentence hang.

Elldadan nodded, bowing his head.

"Please, join me."

The young woman did so, taking the wooden chair directly across from him and holding her hands on the surface of the table. The elf glanced at her before leaning forward and sniffing in the savory smell of the food in front of him. He raised his dark eyes to her and gave her a look of approval.

"A smell to set ones nerves to rest, you agree miss…?"

The woman rolled her eyes.

"Juana." She introduced. "And Dia made the stew."

"I shall have to thank her." The elf said with a smirk. "Personally."

Juana flicked her red curls over her shoulder, her face displaying amusement.

"You have yet to taste it in order to make judgments, good sir. Though I'm sure she'd love the visit and the appreciation."

"Call me Dan." Elladan stated the nickname his brother had called him, scooping a spoonful of the steaming meal into his mouth. He closed his eyes, humming with approval. "This is delicious."

Juana raised a delicate brow at the name, taking in the looks of the stranger before her.

"You don't look much like a 'Dan'." She commented outright, before pointing at his hood. "And that can come down now. You're inside and I can guarantee that it won't rain in here."

Elladan pierced her with a calculating stare, but not one cold enough to frighten. He had planned to take the cowl down but he had decided against it quickly when he saw the large number of people gathered in the inn. There were too many chances of being discovered far too early. If the common folk got wind of an elf being in their midst they would instantly think him the famed 'Dark Hood'. Which he was, but would never admit it.

He didn't regret helping the people out that he did, but there were times like these that he wished he had the ability to keep his nose out and his head down when it came to sparing others from hurt. From what he had seen, humans had an inclination to go after one another for the most petty reasons and more often than not it was the innocent who suffered. Also, the offending party usually lacked seficiant plans and ended up exposing themselves embarrassingly.

Thickheaded mortals, the females among them often had more sense than the masculine gender.

Still, he could see Juana's point and how wearing a hood inside with such a large audience could make him suspicious. So he carefully lifted his hands and pulled it back, revealing his light-skinned face and deep eyes to the waitress. However he was sure to keep his long raven locks over his pointed ears, relying on the shadowing of his dark hair to maintain the secret.

The woman looked slightly shocked at his features, but didn't say anything at the moment.

"I cannot help what I was named at birth, Juana." He spoke in reply to her previous statement. "But that is the name I go by."

"You're obviously not from around here." Was all she said, eyes still locked on his face.

"No." The elf agreed in a soft voice. "That is part of the reason I need information."

Juana physically jolted at the words and brought her attention back to the matter at hand.

"Of course, of course." She was probably berating herself mentally as well. "I'm sorry for staring. It was rude of me. Please, ask away."

Elladan gave her a small grin.

"It's fine." Then he went on to more pressing thoughts. "I'm looking for a man who calls himself Cliff Famour. I was told he owned a farm not too far from town. Do you know this man?"

The young woman's brow furrowed in a look of something akin to sympathy and her lips flattened into a thin line.

"I know the poor man." She honestly relayed. "He lost his wife and child to a murdering fiend last month while he was away on business. He came home to the house ransacked and his family dead on the ground, throats slashed horribly. After the burials he went on a rampage trying to find the killer. Only took him three days to do so and the man was hung right here in town for the terrible crime." The lady looked teary-eyed at him. "I knew his wife, Sinthea, a darling woman she was. He hasn't been the same since."

Elladan frowned at the tale, not sure what to make of it. The image of this Mister Famour hadn't exactly been an approving one in his mind until now. No man does right by going under the law to get profit and certainly not when it involved slaves. Now he was curiousity to the discover character this 'Cliff Famour' made himself out to be in public was strengthened.

"What was he like before this happened?" The elf inquired seriously, a look of cold stone coming over his face.

Juana didn't seem to notice it as she continued, her voice thick.

"He was, and still is, a kind man. Only now he's quieter, doesn't laugh so much and hardly comes to town." A tear escaped the once smiling eyes of the waitress as she sniffled. "I can't imagine what it must be like for the poor man! He didn't deserve what happened! I don't know how he can go on without his wife. She was his backbone…his moral supporter in everything. It was so tragic to lose her…."

A sob left the girl and she suddenly stood up, a hand over her mouth and tears raining down her cheeks. Her face was nearly as red as her hair and her eyes were filled with deep sorrow.

"E-excuse me for a moment, I-I've got to go now."

Elladan watched with concern as Juana fled from his table and disappeared into the door behind the counter. Her story had further shocked him and he became suddenly aware of how he was no longer hungry, regardless of how good the food looked.

_So Famour's family was murdered…_

He actually didn't find that fact to be too surprising, considering if the knowledge he had of the man's work was true. Anybody would be quick to make enemies in such an undertaking like the black-market. You had to be willing to take the risks in a business like that.

Then the elf's thoughts went back to Juana's reaction as she finished telling the tale of Sinthea's death. It was more than obvious that the young female had known Famour's wife closely, very closely if one judged by the tears and loss of control. Had they been friends perhaps? Sisters? He wondered at the possibilities.

She had described Famour as a one would see a good man, an image of an upstanding citizen in a harsh country like that of Harad. And then to tragically have his family slaughtered while on a business trip…

What kind of business trips do farmers around here go on anyway? That was something to look into. He mentally added it to his list.

Without finishing his dinner the elf rose from his seat and pulled his hood back up. He reached inside his cloak and pulled a generous amount of coins from a hidden purse, placing them on the platter by the stew and cold coffee. Then he made for the door, feeling the need for air suddenly grasping at his lungs.

Once again Elladan stepped out onto the dirt street, breathing the fresh breeze deeply. It was sunset now and people were starting to make their way home for the night. Dark eyes scanned the buildings as the elf began to walk back down the way he had entered into the town. His eyes fell onto the tavern and he let out a breath at the large numbers departing from the place.

Well, the dealings were definitely going on there. The remaining question now was who was running it.

Cliff Famour played the role of a farmer in the town and yet the thief he had dealt with three days ago had told him that he was a gambling master for business. The elf knew he had to find out just who owned the gambling hotspot and just where their stand was. He could be either a pawn in another man's game or the real genius behind the secrets that passed under Harad's authorities.

Elladan continued he way to the outskirts of town, his mind lost in the puzzle he had to solve. Not only was he determined to see if he could locate his brother and lost friend, but he had also taken it upon himself to clear this town of its crooks. His sibling and best friend might have suffered through this place without anyone knowing as they were sold off in fixed gambling rounds. That made cleansing this place his business and his priority.

And for all those who may have been involved in the dealings of the two missing elves…..well, they had hell coming to them in the form of one very angered son of Elrond.

And vengeance was not something he considered well served on a cold plate.

_**Thank you to all who reviewed:**_

_**Laureiel  
HassleCastle  
afriendlyreader  
AmazingWriter123 (awesome pic by the way)  
Issy  
urbangirl98  
world-classgeek**_

_**I hope to be seeing more input from you all as the story progresses. For now I shower you with praise and thanks for the comments I've received. **_

_**Still on the lookout for a beta!**_

_**R & R**_

_**Thanks!**_

_**-Ireland Ranger-  
**_


	6. Chapter 6

**The Curse of Mortality  
A Lord of the Rings Fanfiction**

**Chapter Six**

Legolas did indeed sleep better within the warmth of Kiyle's tent, curled on the ground and a thin blanket over his form. The chain about his foot that was hammered deep into the ground with a long peg did not hinder his rest and he couldn't have cared less about it. He was more comfortable than he had been in quite some time and that was what mattered to him. He was not about to chase away opportunity with weighing thoughts of misery. Not now.

The elf barely twitched in his sleep, so dead tired was he. Not even dreams and nightmares dared to assault him in his deep slumber, having pity on the exhausted being through the night. He knew Kiyle had watched him as he fell into sleep, eyes closing in an unnatural way for an elf. But the idea neither bothered nor made his anxious. It actually made him feel a little comforted.

He slept through the night like a bear in hibernation, desperate for the gift to be used well.

But soon dawn had risen to the skies and the bliss was disrupted by Wheezy, to aid in the making of the first meal of the day. He regretted the shortness of the break, but nonetheless was pleased to be freed of the cuff about his ankle.

Legolas bustled about in an almost happy state of mind as he went about his duties. Kiyle made comment of it when he noticed the wider smiles and razor-thin grins he had received when they spoke, obviously enjoyed with the glint in the elven eyes of blue. He had gotten no answer however, but the elf knew that the young human acknowledged that it had something to do with the manner of rest he had gotten in the night.

Indeed his mood was up and his morale high and he intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. Nothing could bring his spirit down at the moment. Or at least that was how he felt.

Gurdan however, had the capabilities as his master to do just that and more. And currently he was in a very foul temper, sending Legolas off to pack his things and ready his horse while he battled with the other traders.

"We are moving too slow!" The elf heard one of the men whine, his voice nasal and accusing. "I want my share now and then I'll be on my own way. I have things to do and this group is moving slower than a snail in midwinter!"

Gurdan snapped in response.

"We cannot divide the profits now unless everyone agrees, Tianur." The man stated strictly. "That way we don't end up with somebody dead because of disapproval on the amounts given. We have to do this in plain sight, for the eyes of all involved."

"I cannot stand the terrible lack of movement!" The other man insisted, his nose upturned in such a manner that almost made Legolas find amusement. It was ridiculous for them to bicker so badly.

"You agreed to stay on until the end, Tianur." Another trader, one dark-haired Niclos, said reasonably. "To leave without consent of the rest of us would forfeit your money to the group. Remember, you signed a contract with us."

The little man bristled at the comment, stung and insulted.

"You cannot simply take the income from my goods!" Tianur threatened angrily, brown eyes flashing. "I'd see each and every one of you brought to justice for such an underhanded crime!"

Legolas saw the other humans roll their eyes.

"This…" Gurdan held up the contract he'd been gripping since the whole argument started. "This _is _just, you fool! You sighed this agreement yourself!"

He thrust the papers angrily at the defiant trader with e growl. They slapped the man in the face before falling to the ground and leaving a livid look behind.

"Take a look if you need to refresh your memory!"

The fight continued on through the morning, delaying the departure for travel. But thankfully, after some angry punches, bloody nosed traders and more shouting, the group came to a mutual agreement without taking each other's heads. They divided the profits amongst themselves and whoever wished to leave could do so, the others could stay until the last end was met if they desired it.

The group left shortly after eating their lunches, splitting with a few of those who had other plans and routs to take. Legolas found himself perched behind Kiyle as they rode rather than sitting bound to one of the carts as they rolled along. His hands were chained, of course, but he didn't mind that too much. He was very grateful for the boy offering to allow him to ride behind him and was enjoying the close company as they traveled.

They hadn't gotten far as they wanted to when the leaders called for a halt, seeing as there was only so much daylight left. The men dismounted and quickly set about making camp, Legolas working just as hard as any of them. The elf's mood had not dampened through the hours of the day and he was satisfied with that, feeling that Kiyle had a lot to do with the fact.

As darkness came, the chill of night came with it and the immortal quickly unrolled his master's bedroll and blankets, tidying the tent before he entered for the evening. Once he was finished, he slipped back into the cool air, relishing in the breeze that came.

Kiyle was sitting by one of the cooking fire, twisting his hands tightly on his lap as he listened to one of the older men tell daring tales of knights, warriors and dragons. He was obviously indulged in the story, much to Legolas' amusement, and often his breath would halt with the more terrifying scenes that the elder human drew out with his words. Tempted as he was to join the lad, the elf found he couldn't bring himself to go over to the group.

Now he was finished his work and had free time before he was once again chained for the night and he wasn't one to waste opportunity.

Knowing that if he went anywhere near the outskirts of the camp he would be chased down and scolded, the young immortal picked out a shadowed tree by a cluster of tents and sat himself down. It was the best he could do for privacy within sight.

Closing his icy blue eyes, he let his mind wander back to a time when there were no chains, no masters to fear. There had only been joy, food aplenty and budding freedom.

Legolas had never known his mother, for she had sailed soon after his birth, not being able to stay because of the common weariness that overtook the elder of the elven race. His father had said that it had come early with her, the pain almost hurting her body physically. Much had happened in her long life and even with the overwhelming pleasure at the birth of her son, she could not stay in Middle Earth.

Regardless of the fact, Legolas had grown happily and had been known for a mischievous spark that never left his bright eyes. The young elf had been well-loved in his young years and often berated for pranking as he had slowly developed into an age equivalent to that of a human teenager. He had enjoyed his life and vividly remembered the thrill of arriving at the age where the training for warriors began.

He never finished it though, for his surprising capture had stabbed painfully in his heart then, leaving him alone and with only the basic skills for survival. Well, not completely alone. Elrohir had been with him in the beginning of the horrid twist of fate. Together they had strove to hold each other up, keeping joyous memories in mind and struggling to keep the monsters at bay. It had been the slightly older and dark-haired elf that had taught him to seek solitude in his mind when he could, and seek the best remembrances possible.

As he was trying to do so now.

Legolas dove into his past, searching for a time where joy had overflowed and nearly drowned him in the tub of contentment. He thought back to father, a straight elf that crossed many as stern and unyielding. Some thought him to be cold, but the slave knew better.

Thranduil had displayed undying fondness for Legolas, loving him as his son and the living relic his wife had him with. Though his duties often left him unable to be with his elfling, the immortal had tried to make room for watching his child grow. When Legolas had been little, he had often tucked him into bed for the night or read him to sleep. A few times there were tickling wars and hide-and-seek, leaving the young elf too tired to walk and end up being carried close to his father's chest to bed.

When he became older, his remaining parent tried always to visit the archery range when time permitted. He was patient and taught Legolas many things as he practiced his skills, praising and correcting him when needed. Nothing could beat the warm feeling of satisfaction and happiness that warmed the young elf's heart when his father pat his back with pride shining in his eyes. He missed those moments more than anything else.

Blinking, Legolas realized he had tears filling his eyes and he quickly wiped them away. He had broken down one days ago when he found himself sold off once again, knowing that the more he was traded off the harder he would be to find. He still held onto that tiny sliver, that hope that there were still elves looking for him. He understood that it was nearly an impossible task, but he still found himself praying for rescue.

There were times when he simply couldn't take the strain of his situation anymore, too hurt. Times he would be so close to giving up and wishing to die. His heart was bruised and abused and he found himself wanting was his old life back.

He wanted his _Ada_ to hold him and say everything would be alright.

Legolas buried his head in his arms, realizing that his attempt to find some peace had only dissipated the gentle happiness that had dared to take rest in him earlier that day. Valar, when would this depression stop? He had grown as comfortable as possible for an enslaved elf and had long ago reined his emotions to the best of his ability. But the depression had always stayed by him, a cruel companion overshadowing his mind.

The downtrodden elf hardly noticed when another being approached, too caught up in trying to force back the horror and the abandonment he felt. It was only when a tentative hand touched his shoulder that he was jolted back into the present, looking with teary, wide eyes at the human.

He had expected it to be Kiyle, but he was shocked to find himself staring into the eyes of Wheezy, the camp cook. Instantly he tried to compose himself, mentally rebuilding the wall he had briefly allowed himself to be free of. Once again the elf schooled his expression to an emotionless gaze.

He missed the strange look within the old man's face.

"Is….is there a problem sir?"

He received no answer besides a hard, calculating squint of wrinkled eyelids. Then the human seated himself beside the elf, his lips thinned. Legolas couldn't fathom what he wanted at the moment and swallowed, not knowing what to expect.

"Sir, did I….forget to do something?" He asked, being sure to keep his tone respectful. "I-I thought I had completed everything, but if there is something I-"

A gruff voice cut him off.

"Have you a family, elf?"

Legolas froze under the question, this voice captured in his throat. Why ask him such a question? What did the human want with the information? Suspicious clouded his heart and he looked away, unable to meet the other's gaze.

"With all due respect, sir…" He closed his eyes in shrill fear. "I don't plan on allowing any other elf to find themselves in the same place as I am now."

"You find mortals capable enough to simply waltz into an elven kingdom and snatch a family right out of their home?" Wheezy frowned. "I don't know whether to be flattered or bemused."

The elf cast deep blue eyes on him, cold and just as bitter as he felt.

"I am here, am I not?" He snapped impatiently, before clamping his mouth shut and cursing himself.

It wouldn't do to anger this human. He opened his lips to ask for forgiveness when the old cook shook his head.

"It is noble of you to care for those you believe to have left you to this fate." He blinked, cocking his head. "I admire that."

Anger be thrown into the sea, nobody talked of his people that way!

"They have not left me!" Legolas all but shouted, becoming tense and balling his hands into shaking fists. "They would never do that!"

"How long have you been a slave, elf? A year? Five? Fifteen?" Wheezy sighed. "What would you call your lack of rescue, hm? Forgetfulness?"

The fury Legolas felt was barely restrained, setting his jaw grimly. In his past life he would have not hesitated in making a person who spoke that way to him pay dearly. But this was different. He was a subjected ware of these mortals, a tool and a toy to be broken. He couldn't risk his health. Nevertheless, his blood boiled with the words that were spoken.

He turned his head violently away, grinding his teeth.

"Why are you here?"

_Why are you speaking to me? Why are you trying to provoke me? What have you to gain from this?_

Wheezy rolled his shoulders, looking into the darkened sky.

"I wondered." He said simply. "For I have never met an elf before and I was curious as to how one such as yourself became enslaved."

Legolas shred all care for his wellbeing and cast them to the winds.

"I will not give you the satisfaction of knowing such information!" He hissed, his eyes showing the disgusted opinion he held for the human.

He wanted to punch, claw and beat the man to a pulp at the wicked grin he received then, his insides curling at the sight.

"But I already know how you were captured, foolish immortal." Wheezy's smirk grew, his eyes displaying cruel delight at the confused face of the elf. "You are young even for your own kind, and children often act very, very stupidly. No doubt you wandered off on your own and were quickly seized by the first slaver who spotted you." A sneer. "Mayhap that is the reason none came for you, little elf. None would want back such an idiotic elfling like you."

The man then got up, moving away from a very stilled and silent Legolas, not even leaving time for a reply. The elf's breathing was fast and his heart pounded hard in its eternal prison. He felt cold, the words spoke numb in his pointed ears and registering to his abused reasoning.

Long ago he had grown accustomed to the taunts of his endless captors, hearing their curses but being able to close them off enough to only leave a dull ach in his breast. But unknowing to Wheezy, his words had been closer to the truth then he dared to admit.

He _had_ wandered off without permission, his twin companions by his side. They had played and laughed, unsuspecting of the danger that was near.

Legolas shivered, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them in a hug.

He and Elrohir had been captured and enslaved without mercy, all because of his disobedience to his father. He had been a fool, a stupid, idiotic excuse for an elf to allow himself and his friend to be so easily subdued. It was something he would never forgive himself for as long as he lived.

Standing, Legolas made his way back over to Kiyle's tent, his mind and heart far away. He made no fuss as he was chained about the ankle again and forced to curl upon the hard ground. He closed his eyes, Wheezy's horrid voice echoing in his brain and bouncing off his skull in a pounding manner. His mood from earlier was irreparably shattered.

He quivered, clutching to himself desperately.

That night his nightmares returned with vigorous cruelty.

* * *

**_Yes- I am mean to Legolas for seemingly no reason. No- It is not without reason. Yes- Perhaps I should cut him a little slack. Hmmm...that'll have to wait though._**

**_Personally, I did not like this chapter but *shrugs* I'm moving on in the next._**

**_So thank you to all who reviewed!_**

**_Eruaistaniel: My elves are just out of 'teenagerhoodforelves'. That means that the warrior training just ended or is soon to end. This leaves Elladan quilified and capable of taking care of himself and all three considered adults._**

**_Elves are awesome : Thanks! Review soon!_**

**_HassleCastle : Thanks for reviewing! I just looked into the coffee thingy and yep, twas there! Actually there was something called a coffee miller? Ah well!_**

**_AmazingWriter123: Well, I love halt the best...but that's just me XD Thanks for reviewing! Elrohir will come in all good time...but I'm going to have to dissapoint you by saying that will not be in the next couple of chapters. Elrohir is my favorite besides Legolas and I want him to have a special case._**

**_Read and Review!_**

**_-Ireland Ranger-_**


	7. Chapter 7

**The Curse of Mortality  
A Lord of the Rings Fanficion**

**Chapter Seven**

"_Look Dan!"_

_Elladan turned his head to watch as his brother scooped up the little bird he had discovered by the stream. He cradled it gently in his hands, a sad smile over his lips._

"_It is hurt." He spoke in misery. "How did it get in this part of the forest do you think?"_

_The elder sibling put his arm around his brother's neck affectionately. They might have been twins, but it was Elrohir who had always held the heart of gold between them. He was softer, more sensitive than his brother and more prone to joy and tears._

"_Perhaps a hawk scooped it from its nest for a meal and dropped it." Elladan said kindly, petting the chirping hatchling with a long finger. "You were lucky to discover it brother, for I do believe father will be able to heal its hurts and bumps."_

_Elrohir lifted his dark-eyed gaze to his brother's matching one._

"_Like when we battle with Legolas. Only, this little one won't be made to drink horrid concoctions will he?"_

_Elladan laughed._

"_I doubt that he will."_

* * *

"Right….first thing's first." Elladan kicked out the fire he had lit to make himself a morning meal.

He had made camp in the wood that night, thanking the Valar that they were charitable enough to make Harad contain _some_ forests before changing into the drastically heated desert. Honestly, he didn't know how the Haradrim lived in such boiling temperatures. Even the winters proved to be slightly hot.

And the nights were everlastingly cold.

No matter, he had a purpose for being here and it was not one that he planned to take lightly. He had too much relying on him and far too many people placing their trust into his care. He never broke his word to those he swore it to. Not before and certainly not now. Especially since the two elves in this matter were of royal and noble rank. Worried parents did insane things sometimes. Well, so did he, so worrisome brothers counted somewhere.

He flung his cloak around his shoulders, clasping it together under his chin. Then he scooped up his pack, bow and stood straight, rolling his shoulders with a sigh. Sleeping in trees and on hard, unforgiving ground can even get to elves after a while. Elladan had only pleasured himself with a bed a few times in the last two years and had the justice to say he wanted a soft surface to lie on.

With a slow pace, he started back towards Symphony, mentally going over the things he intended and was determined to complete before the week was out. This involved busting the black market traders, understanding Famour's roll in the whole plot and ultimately finding out what he could about slaves that may have passed through the process. He hoped that it would lead him closer to discovering both Legolas and Elrohir, praying that their discovery would not be longer than necessary. But at the same time he found himself frowning, almost wishing that they had never passed through the horrible idea of being sold again.

He knew that the pair had been enslaved almost immediately after being captured. Though the elf had been young, he had set out ruthlessly with only Glorfindel for aid after the two missing immortals. The Balrog Slayer had only agreed out of pity, knowing what they would find beforehand due to the search patrols. He had not been able to calm Elladan and eventually left Rivendell with the son of Elrond for a private attempt at regaining the lost.

The effort proved to be a failure in the end, but it had provided some hope. Both Elladan and Glorfindel had come across a human settlement three days outside of Rivendell's borders. The town was elf friendly and had actually been in the process of debating whether or not to send word to the elves. Apparently Legolas and Elrohir's captors had passed by the town, not even bothering to hide the fact that they held the pair of youthful captives enslaved. The people had reacted unhappily, demanding the elves be surrendered over for supplies.

Then one of the kidnappers had taken leave to whip the 'dark-haired one', so the villagers had said, until they gave in. Of course, the town had done so right away, hating the sight of the bloodied immortal. The men had promptly gathered their goods and left, dragging the slaves behind them.

The thought of his little brother being abused so hurt Elladan's heart almost more than he could take. But the sight of the bloodied spot where it had been done was so much worse. He had burst into a fit of rage before the entire town, spitting elvish curses and burning tears running down his face. The town didn't know where the group was headed and even with Glorfindel's promises, Elladan knew that his brother and friend were lost, alone and mistreated.

After they had left the place Elladan was silent and dull, his eyes misted with an impassive cloud. He only been lucid enough to demand Glorfindel's word that their father would never learn of Elrohir's beating. Once he had forced it out of the elder elf, he went back to his sullen silence.

The dream he had had the past night, the memory, had brought back the pain he endured and the lost time he knew he and Elrohir had missed together. But he had learned over the long years of loneliness, to direct the anger he felt at any task that needed completion.

And entering the town of Symphony, he applied that lesson once again.

The setup and streets were just as he had remembered from his last visit and he knew his destination.

Walking the dusty ground, he pulled up his hood and headed straight for the rowdy tavern. People were already gathered within and bustling about with boisterous laughter ringing through the air.

Before entering the horrid building, Elladan reached up a hand and checked his ears, hoping that the appearance clay he had applied after waking that morning had done its work. His nimble fingers rubbed gently against the disguised point, finding an awkward curve. Usually his hood would serve to be enough in inns and most gatherings, but in a close-contact and rather uproarious building like this, precautions were in order. From the diligent eye, it would clearly be seen as a fake, but who stared at ears with such attention?

With the affirmative that his features were fine, the elf entered the place that reeked of ale and mead.

It was as expected.

Tables and games were surrounded by eager players, some unknowing and others well-understood of what the winnings would be. Both women and men fluttered about the place, spending and gambling to their hearts content. In all good truth, it sickened Elladan at just what each person might be risking. Heirlooms, entire incomes, food money? The whole idea spelled a uneasy feeling in his gut as he pushed through the people, holding in his disgust.

Eventually he was able to wade through the thickly compacted room and come to the counter, the back shelves lined with mead, ale, wines and brew of all kinds. A chubby woman with a severe case of overdosing beauty-paint and robed in a bright pink dress smiled at him as he made himself known. She waddled over, fluttering black doused eyelashes at him.

"Can I help you sir?"

Elladan cut right to the chase.

"I'm looking for a man by the name of Cliff Famour. I was told I could find him here."

The woman pursed her fat red lips and looked hard at him, blue eyes narrowed with calculating stare. A few loud moments passed and around them the tavern was ever bustling. But eventually the woman cocked her head and flicked her golden hair over her shoulder, turning away.

"One moment, sweetie, I'll be right back."

Without another word, she slipped away, around the counter and into the crowd, leaving the elf curious and waiting.

However he was surprised when she returned only a minute later, lips pulled taunt and wrinkles about the eyes.

"Follow me." She instructed him strictly, her tone cold. "I'll show you to where you need to be."

Elladan obeyed without question, forcing himself through the mass of bodies behind her. He kept as close as possible until they reached the far side of the tavern, slipping into a door that she opened and gestured for him to enter. He did so, ever wary and careful.

They stood in a short hallway, made of dark polished wood and with steps that went to the higher level.

"You'll go up those stairs and take the last door to the right." The plump woman stated coolly, turning to him with a huff as she waved a thick finger. "Don't go anywhere else, you hear? I've got work to do and you're like are constantly getting underfoot. Black slickers the lot of you."

"My like?" Elladan inquired, a small smile over his lips. "And what are 'my like', miss?"

The chubby woman snorted, turning her heel and gripping the door handle once more.

"You know very well what I mean. I don't support it. I don't like it and I think it's downright wrong." She glared at him over her shoulder with icy blue eyes. "Shoot up those stair mister, some people don't like to be kept waiting."

"Famour an impatient fellow is he?"

"Cliff?" The lady stiffly moved her eyes from his sight. "He was a charming man, hanging with the wrong sorts. Caught up with him in the end."

Elladan brows furrowed at those word, his mind pounding with questions. He opened his mouth to voice his thoughts further when the soft click of a door was heard from above, drawing his attention away.

A woman dressed in a black gown stood at the top of the steps. She had glistening, bright green eyes and glossy pitch locks that hung gently about her face. Her wrists were clamped in thick, golden bracelets and her painted lips were curved in a warm smile. She cocked her head, the long shining earrings brushing against her neck.

"Run along Angela. I'll speak with our guest."

The plump maid, Angela Elladan guessed, bobbed her head and didn't even cast a glance his way as she started out the door, leaving the two alone.

With a rock-like sensation in his gut, the elf met the woman's green-eyed gaze with his own dark one. He mentally set himself a guard, for even if the lady was beautiful, she could still prove to be a true proud viper.

"If you are seeking Cliff Famour, young man, I assure that he is no longer working." She paused, her intelligent face soft and sincere. "He had an unfortunate occurrence this past year that has forced him to take his leave."

She walked down the steps, slow and precise, her black gown breathing against the polished wood as she descended. Elladan watched her every movement, analyzing and sorting through what his eyes told his brain. When she reached the bottom platform, her heels made a loud click and she stopped one hand on the railing and the other by her side.

"I am Dayshia Delm. Any business you have you can handle with me."

She extended a tender, greeting hand with the smile never leaving her face.

"Dan." The elf introduced, taking her hand and giving it a shake for good measure.

The woman might be charming to the eyes, but she was nothing compared to the elven maidens that he had known in his life. For a fact it was said that his own dear sister was one of the most glorified elleth, her pretty features unmated and amazing. Indeed, if this Dayshia was seeking to sweep him off his feet with her lovely completion, he would demonstrate that it did not stand.

"You are Famour's replacement then?"

Dayshia's delicate eyebrow twitched at the question, obviously masking her felt annoyance. She gently tugged her hand from Elladan's and looked him directly in the eye.

"No. I was his manager, so to speak."

The elf inwardly smirked, knowing that this woman was irritated that he would even suggest her being on the same level as Famour. It was a clue, and he didn't mind causing a bristle to this lady's feathers if it meant getting any information at all.

He smiled lightly.

"I see."

Green eyes continued to study him for a few moments as if hoping to dig past the walls Elladan had set in his eyes. In the end Miss. Delm yielded the superior force behind the dark gaze, stepping to the side and gesturing up the stair in an inviting manner.

"Please, I'm sure we will be more comfortable discussion whatever it is you wish to speak of in my office." She gave a light-hearted laugh. "I daresay that it was rude of me not inviting you straightway."

The elf grinned, shrugging as he did so.

"It is no problem, I am hardly bothered." A twinkle appeared in his eyes and he did the same motion, sweeping an arm towards the steps. "But I must insist upon lady's being first. It would be discourteous of me to not offer."

A dangerous look flashed over Dayshia's features before returning to the calm, dignified and warm face she wore previously. The fake smile settled once again over her lips and she graciously accepted his offer, taking the railing in hand and starting up the stairway, her dress swishing as she moved.

Elladan was quick to follow after her, untrusting at having a possible enemy at his back at any time. His soft leather boots made nearly no sound as they walked down the hall, arriving at the last deep-polished door. The woman opened it without a word, pressing the door away so that he might also enter. He did so with a heightened sense of self-protection, aware and ready for any attack that could come.

However no violence or armed men awaited him within the room, only a desk, full bookshelves lining the walls and the unnecessary trinkets here and there. There was a small table with a bottle of red wine and shining glasses that beamed in the sunlight from the window on the far wall. The rug upon the floor looked to be woven by an expensive artist and a cushioned chair sat across from the desk for any visitor who might happen by.

In this case, him.

When Delm seated herself with a soft sigh, taking a pile of papers in her hand and stacking them neatly before disposing them into her desk, she waved a hand for him to sit also. Elladan obliged, the soft chair a grace on his travel-worn body. He waited patiently as the black-haired lady cleared her things off the desk, obviously wishing to be tidy before speaking. Once she was satisfied however, she folded her delicate hands over the surface, meeting him head on.

"What is it that brings you here exactly, Dan?" She spoke his name with hesitance and a raised brow. "You don't seem like you're from Harad, or for that matter even into something like our black-market. Why are you truly here and what do you want?"

Elladan was unfazed by the direct approach.

"You are correct. I hail from Rohan, Miss Delm and that is not a country that takes kindly to my needs." He paused. "As for the black-market, I am sure you know that Rohan is quite on top of that sort of thing. If not the authorities then certainly the common folk who would rally against the idea. The goods I need cannot be found there anyway, so it would be pointless to look."

Emerald eyes took interest at that and the woman leaned over her desk with an eager greed taking hold of her thoughts.

"And just what are the goods and needs that you desire and Rohan is unable to offer?" Her voice was tight and giddy, seeking profit. "Why come all the way to Harad? Surely what you seek is expensive then."

The elf, despite the inward disgust he felt, smirked and allowed a vicious glint to take his gaze in hold. It was rather upsetting how easily this Dayshia Delm sought out gain and he instinctively knew that he would never leave this town without dealing with her first. She was a parasite, a sick and demented monster lurking under pretty skin and fluttering lashes. He knew what her reaction would be before it came.

"What I need is indeed at a high price, but I feel as though I deserve it." Elladan stilled, taking in the form of the woman with a analyzing stare. "I seek slaves, Miss Delm and not just any slaves. I seek that which is considered the most stunning of the races. I want elves."

The woman's breath caught and her orbs glossed over with the hungry vice of craved wealth. She flashed him the brightest smile ever seen and smugness came over her.

"For a hefty sum." She all but giggled. "I think I could arrange such a purchase for you."

* * *

**_Ugh, I am soooo sorry for the late post but I simply HAD to go to the Irish Center yesterday and sacrifice the ability to please you. Sorry. And I've introduced a character who I created to hate. The name's mine though, can't have it!Anyway I've got good news! Elrohir's coming sooooon! Yes, I've decided to alter som ethings and be nice for once. YAY! Can't wait, can't wait, can't wait..._**

**_Anywhooo, thanks to all those who reviewed last chapter! Please keep them coming!_**

**_HassleCastle  
Trich  
Laureiel  
AmazingWriter123 and anyone else who I missed_**

**_Please Read and Review!_**

**_-Ireland Ranger-_**


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